


Fall From Grace

by Nisaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sam, Guilty Sam Winchester, M/M, Rough Sex, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/pseuds/Nisaki
Summary: It's just so he can kill Lucifer. And Dean can't know.





	Fall From Grace

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a prompt fill for the Sam birthday meme, from ohsam on lj. I had so much about this, so much more. For some reason I couldn't.

 

It starts out like it always does.

Because he's trying to do what's right, and Dean is not there.

Sam wants to blame it on Ketch. He brought Gabriel. He told them about Asmodeus.

It takes him less than an hour to realize what Asmodeus was trying to achieve. A bit of research to prove it, then he can't shake it off.

Asmodeus was trying to get enough grace in him to wield the archangel blade.

To kill Lucifer.

Not cage him, not banish him into another reality.

Kill him. For real.

Forever.

And Sam tries to ignore it, but once something like that latches on it never does come out easy.

Dean won't be long. Only 24 hours. Sam can hold on for at least that much.

To fill his time, he takes care of Gabriel. To ease his guilt, distract himself from what he's thinking of doing to Gabriel.

But is it so bad?

If it would rid them of the biggest nightmare of his life, is it really so bad?

Haven't he done enough to deserve at least this?

Closure.

No more being sketchy, no more night terrors. No more worrying Dean.

He inhales shakily, walks away from the archangel. Blood thrumming in his veins, the ghost of being powerful; in control.

Not now, not now. Don't think about it.

Pace, pace, pace.

Only 17 hours till Dean's awaited return.

His hand shakes as he lifts the shiny tube, the light inside almost blinding. He squints his eyes, gulps. He can't smell it, it looks like a little sun trapped in glass.

They've only got one. But Gabriel is still there. And he can. He can if he wants to.

His leg bounces. Hands in his hair, gripping, tugging. Can he get enough power to kill the devil?

The idea is so absurd it makes him flinch. Someone like Sam killing Lucifer. When did he get so arrogant.

Then he remembers, who he is, what he did and can do. If anyone can kill Lucifer it's _him_.

Anger comes next, hot and explosive. Burns up in bursts inside his chest, fire in his blood.

The lamp shutters. This is more Dean that he is, he doesn't break things.

Dean is not here.

He chokes up, eyes tearing. What if Dean doesn't make it back?

Sam marches back to where the grace is. Stares. This can never end well, but he owes it to himself to try.

The needle hits his vein. He screams.

 

******************

 Sam's eyes open to the same sight, colours don't look brighter, no heightened senses, no gratification.

But his knees don't crack when he pulls himself up, and he remembers more details. The door knob breaks in his hand.

He'll need less than what Asmodeus needed. Or at least that's the theory. Asmodeus is a demon, something in him must've antagonized the grace.

Sam pretends like he doesn't have something of the same.

He knows how to take grace out of someone, Cas did it to him. But he can only guess at how much he can take and how many times without killing Gabriel.

12 hours.

Sam starts twitching. 

He reads a lot about grace, theories of what is it and how it may affect humans, adds what he knows to what's in the books and what he notices on himself. Not a lot apart from a really out of place strength. Nothing like _before_.

6 hours.

He almost throws up. Gabriel screams, Sam doesn't stop.

He has to do this. Everyone will be better off without Lucifer.

He's the only one who can. Gotta take one for the team.

The next hit makes him feel. It's stronger than before. More addicting somehow.

Disgusting all the same.

Guilt drips with the sweat he works up. Pacing back and forth.

 

****************

Dean brings pain when he comes back, brings flashes of disappointed eyes and the image of him walking out. He multiples Sam's guilt, makes regret curl in Sam's stomach.

The rift shines brighter behind him, highlighting him in yellow, like the sun is raising over the line of his strong shoulders. His smile is tired but soft on the edges, eyes twinkling as he steps the distance between them and takes Sam into his arms.

Sam's knees almost give out, relief and gratitude overtaking him. He strengthen his hold on Dean's waist, squeezes his eyes shut when Dean does the same.

He is undeserving of the warmth and love flowing out of Dean, can feel it like he's being crushed by it. Or like he's underwater, and cannot resurface.

Dean takes his hand and they retreat to their room, ignore Ketch and the angels and everything else for the night.

On their bed, Sam can't face Dean, flips over and Dean doesn't ask. Dean's kisses are velvet soft on the knobs of his spine, his tongue dragging fire on Sam's flushed skin. He moans loud, not caring if he's heard, knows Dean appreciates a responsive partner.

He whines and pleads, forces Dean to fuck him so soon so he can feel the pain, wants to be stretched and used. Asks for harder and faster and more even when each thrust drives him so far up the mattress he's not sure he wouldn't hit the wall if Dean's not gripping his hips.

''Dean, Dean. Mark me,'' he's breathless, voice hoarse and ears ringing. His hole aches where Dean's cock is splitting him open.  He pushes back, relish the jolt of pleasure mixed pain. Dean complies, fucks his hips as hard as he could, Sam's hands give out, his face slides up the bed, against the pillow with Dean's shoves.

Dean's lips latch onto the back of his neck, Dean sucks a line of marks, from his shoulders and down along his spine. Tighten his fingers on Sam's hipbones so they bruise. Pulls his dick all the way, then slams in with all his weight behind it. Sam loses it untouched, screams Dean's name, whimpers as Dean's come fills him up.

He likes the feeling of it dripping down his thighs, it's dirty and disgusting but it's another mark of Dean that he likes to wear. Sometimes, he thinks it's  his fucked up way of embracing all the wrong things that he does.

''Sammy? You alright?'' Dean's gentle, curling behind him and planting kisses on his shoulder blades.  He always asks after a particularly hard fuck, when he thinks he over did it. But his tone carries something else, almost knowing. He must've sensed the underlying air of desperation,  in Sam's pleas or the way he arched into him. It doesn't matter.

Sam can't tell him. Dean won't get it.

Dean smoothes the hair away from the nape of his neck, then his lips lands there. The soft kiss grows tears in Sam's eyes. He sleeps with self-loathing burring hot in his stomach.

 

   

 

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me what you thought. I'm [Nisaki](https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com) on tumblr, come say hi.


End file.
